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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24150193">The Many Lives and Deaths of Booker Dewitt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexerei_writes/pseuds/rexerei_writes'>rexerei_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BioShock 1 &amp; 2 (Video Games), BioShock Infinite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universes, Blood, Character Death, Drowning, Gen, Spoilers, not really graphic depictions of violence?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:20:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24150193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexerei_writes/pseuds/rexerei_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Booker survived falling from incredible heights, being nearly drowned, blunt force trauma- but he always came out okay.</p><p>...Didn't he?</p><p>Series of drabbles of the experiences that got the unlucky Bookers killed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Many Lives and Deaths of Booker Dewitt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                The first time Booker died, he drowned. The damned overeager priest held him down under that baptismal water until it flooded his lungs. He may have been blind, but perhaps somehow he knew the brand that marked the man’s hand in some divine way. Like a spirit of vengeance, the man played executioner, holding the kicking man under the water until every sin was purged from him- especially those he had yet to commit. After Booker ceased struggling, he turned to his congregation.</p><p>                “Brothers and sisters- it is done.”</p><p>                “It is done.” They echo.</p><p> </p><p>In this world, a girl stays in her tower, and dreams of Paris until her dreams are filled with fire. In another world, Booker awakens at the basin of the baptismal font, coughing and spitting curses.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>                The second time he died, he went two for two on drowning. Thrown into the air and yanked about on the Sky-Lines, by the time he’d fallen hundreds of feet into Columbia’s artificial ocean he was already exhausted. If not for the leather and metal monster between him and the surface, maybe he could have still desperately kicked his way to the surface, but instead he pushed back further into the water as it lunged for him, nearly reaching him before it’s great glass eye cracked under the pressure.</p><p>                ‘<em>Huh</em>.’ He thought as his vision darkened. ‘<em>Wonder what that means for me?</em>’</p><p>                The answer ended up being… nothing. It was the rush of water into his lungs that got him in the end, not the ill effects of the water's crushing pressure.</p><p> </p><p>Here, Elizabeth waits, horror growing as her would-be rescuer never resurfaces. She doesn’t see true death for many years yet, and by the time she does it is with pride that she views her work. In another world, she drags Booker from the waves, chest compressions forcing the water out so air can take its rightful place.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>                The third time she kills him. Not strong enough to pull the lever of a lift to run away from him in horror at what he’d done- but strong enough to take a wrench to his temple at just the wrong angle. As he goes down, she turns and alters their course.</p><p>                ‘<em>When he wakes up, he’ll be furious.</em>’ She thinks, glancing back at him, barely conscious and slurring her name before he collapses with a groan. ‘<em>But I can hit him again, or- or tie him up. I’m going to Paris. He can't stop me.' </em></p><p>                It is after about ten minutes that she realizes he’s no longer breathing, that the blood under his head had kept pooling- so much, it was too much. Her breath caught in her throat as she knelt to check his pulse.</p><p>                Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>In this world, the first time she kills, it tempers her- she had killed Booker for not honoring his promise, even if she hadn't meant to. What could possibly stop her from doing the same to her captors? Fighting until finally she learned to feign obedience, when the reins of Columbia were given to her, she drove the city into the sea. She was merciless in her judgement, for the people of Columbia had been the ones found wanting. In another world, she flees the ship as the Vox Populi commandeer it, sparing a last glance at the concussed man on the floor before leaving him to his fate.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>                Fate which, in this world, was not kind. The Vox Populi, headed by the resolute Daisy Fitzroy, thought that maybe they’d found an ally when they discovered the unconscious False Shepherd in the commandeered airship. The man proved, however, to be stubborn, focused only on his own selfish goals.</p><p>                So instead she made a demand. The exchange of a much more valuable commodity for the airship. Then, to prove a point, they shoved him from the deck and let him fall to the floating dock below.</p><p>                Daisy turns and returns to the injured behind her, ready to assist the trained medics. It doesn’t matter that she’s the face of the rebellion against the horrific oppression of Columbia- if she could help the people who stood with her, she was willing to do anything. Behind her, one of the Vox scouts remained, peering down at the dock below.</p><p>                “He’s not getting up, Daisy.”</p><p>                She spun on heel.</p><p>                “What do you mean, he’s not getting up?” She says sharply, dashing back over. The False Shepherd was sprawled out nearly 50 feet below them, flat on his back.</p><p>                “You know, I really thought we were closer when we dropped him.” Says the man beside her awkwardly. She swears and gives the order to pull back. They’d get the guns another way or die trying.</p><p>In this world, a girl stows away onto an airship. When she’s caught, no one comes to her aid. The people of the land below would be like him- fleeing when they didn’t get what they wanted. Years later she would be left with a flying city of zealots and a mountain of regret. In another world, he pulls himself to his feet, groaning at the fresh new bruises on his back and cursing his luck.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>                Death comes for him again when he falls from suspended cargo, plummeting back to the earth like an angel fallen from on high. His eyes lock with hers only a moment as he tumbles, and Elizabeth can’t open the tear in time- or maybe chooses not to? His scream carries too long, and she clutches the deck in horror.</p><p>                She was mad at him- furious, even!- but… but had she really wanted him to die? She had felt the tear there, why hadn’t she pulled it open?</p><p>In this world the questions haunt her as the Handyman picks her up and leaps back to deliver her once again into the clutches of Comstock’s cronies. More haunting still was the thought… why had it been so easy to let him die? In another world, the odd pair make a deal neither fully trust, but that they can’t avoid.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>                The next Booker to die surprises even himself- the Booker who sacrificed himself for the Vox, the one who had joined their rebellion, who had chosen to play the hero. The thought of this other Booker made him sick to his stomach, wracked with guilt for not… not being him. He wasn’t a martyr, he didn’t deserve the accolades they gave. He was tainted and selfish and had long since given up trying to do right by others- so what made this other Booker different?</p><p>                Listening to his own voice on a voxophone, the wheeze of a man dying, the thoughts of a lost daughter keeping him company as he slipped away- it felt like a sham.</p><p>                And yet, he almost wishes he could be that Booker, dying for a dream. A cause.</p><p>In this world he keeps going, wondering if he could ever find something to motivate him so much that he would be willing- glad, even- to die for something bigger than himself. In another world, a war is won, incensed by the martyr who helped bring Columbia to its knees.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>                The next time he dies, Songbird launches him through a window. The glass and shrapnel of the frame pierces his back, thrust deeper as he connects with the ground with bone-cracking force. Elizabeth pleads with her guardian- “Don’t hurt him, I’ll go with you, just let him live”- but in truth it would not matter. As she is taken from the room, Booker reaches out to her, desperately willing his body to action even as the strength drains from him.</p><p>                Elizabeth is left alone, waiting, hoping he’ll come for her. The truth is, his body is used as an example. <em>This is what happens to those who defy the Prophet’s will</em>. Like Lady Comstock, his death is used as a commodity, a warning.</p><p>                For so long, Elizabeth blames him. When she finally finds the monument, she burns it down. She had taken pride in the work she had done, reducing the world below to ash, but as his funeral pyre goes up, everything she thought she knew turned upside down. Regret haunted her, a more potent ghost than the woman she called mother ever was.</p><p>In this world, it was too late for her. But in another…? Perhaps she could still save them both.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>                The last time Booker died, he was at peace. Elizabeth- Anna, he couldn’t help but think- would finally be free. He wondered if this was what that other version of himself had felt? A cause to die for, for her to live her life as she wished, he would give even this. Water filled his lungs, not for the first time but now for the last.</p><p>                He hoped it was pity in her eyes, but a part of him knew it was joy- revenge finally delivered for all that had been done to her. God help him, he couldn’t even blame her. Darkness overtook him, and the world faded, the burning in his lungs…</p><p>                The last thing he saw was her, and he was content.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>                In another world, he reaches his hand out to his daughter- not by birth or blood, but by a bond that ran across all the worlds themselves.</p><p>                His little girl.</p><p>                His Eleanor.</p>
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